Freckles
by angiewinstr
Summary: Ever since Sam was a little boy, he was fascinated by Dean's freckles.


"Dean?" A small voice whispered into the thick heat of the summer night. "Dean?" The creak of a bed and the shadow of a head being raised. "Dean," the voice hissed. A mumble was slurred in response. More creaking as the smaller figure shook what looked like a lump of sheets.

"Huh? What, Sammy?" The five year old flopped onto his side and pillowed his head in the crook of his elbow, wide eyes staring at his brother who lay sprawled on his back. Dean's eyes were still closed until he felt the boy's stare. He turned his head towards Sam, barely managing to crack open his eyes. "What?" He repeated.

"I can't sleep." The room was completely dark, but Dean could hear the pout in Sam's voice. As his eyes quickly adjusted, he saw his little brother staring at him expectantly with his bottom lip protruding and his huge eyes filled with a puppy-like imploring. Dean sighed, still unable to resist his brother's puppy dog eyes.

"Come here." Sam scooted into Dean's open arms and laid his head against the still scrawny nine-year old's chest. Again, silence filled the room, and Dean began falling back into sleep. He was startled awake again when he felt something brush against his face, and he jerked away from the tickling.

"Sorry." Sam mumbled. Dean relaxed when he realized it was just Sam. The little boy resumed tracing his brother's face with his tiny fingers.

"What're you doin'?" Still groggy from lack of sleep, Dean didn't have it in him to push Sam away.

"You have so many speckles on your face." Sam could feel Dean's chest sink in when he laughed.

"They're freckles, silly." He ruffled the back of Sam's head. Sam continued poking at each of the little dots scattering Dean's face, biting his lip in complete fascination. After he had traced and poked every freckle on Dean's face, he snuggled closer into Dean's chest despite the heavy humidity. Dean smiled down at his brother whose tiny chest had begun to rise and fall slower. He drifted off to sleep, still feeling where Sam had brushed his face.

-o-

Sam tiptoed to the kitchen where Dean had just entered moments ago. He mustered up all the stealth a ten year old could possibly possess and began creeping up behind the unsuspecting Dean who stood holding open the refrigerator door. Nearly two feet away from Dean, he reached out his hand to grab his brother but yelped and jumped backwards when Dean whirled around. "GOTCHA!" Sam screeched and dashed off the way he had come, Dean hot on his heels. It took only a few moments before Dean was on top of Sam, tickling him relentlessly. Sam squealed and pleaded for mercy between gulps for air and hysterical laughter. "You sound like a little girl," Dean taunted.

"I do not!" Sam gasped.

"Do too!" Sam started flailing harder and started pummeling Dean with his fists. Dean only laughed and flipped Sam onto his stomach. He let go, having had his fun, and started to stand up. In a flash of movement, Sam was up and then diving down ontop of Dean.

"HA!" He yelled triumphantly when he sat on Dean's chest and pushed his arms into the ground. Although the boy was only ten, he was quickly catching up to Dean with his height, but he lacked much in weight. However, Dean let him have his victory.

"Okay, okay, you got me. Easy, tiger." Dean was caught off guard when Sam slid off his chest and settled into Dean's arm. Awkwardly, Dean wrapped his arms around Sam. It had been awhile since Sam had let Dean hold him.

"You've been away a lot."

"Yeah."

"I don't really see you that much." Dean smiled sadly.

"Yeah, I know." Sam sighed heavily and looked up at Dean.

"You still have a bunch of speckles."

"They're freckles."

"No they aren't." Sam reached up and slid his finger down Dean's nose. He jabbed at the dots on Dean's cheek and giggled childishly. "I used to want freckles, but I have yours, so I don't need them." They lay on the cold ground while Sam gazed at Dean's freckles. Dean's back gradually became so numb that he could no longer feel it and his arms grew cold with loss of blood circulation, but he never loosened his grip on Sam.

-o-

Fourteen year old Sam lay on his back, fuming at the ceiling. The low murmur of voices reached Sam's ears as the motel door opened. Sam sat up abruptly in bed and was about to run and greet Dean and their father. But then he remembered how John had forced Sam to wait at the motel while he took Dean on the hunt, and he slammed back down onto his back. Before Sam had seen why he couldn't assist them, although he stilled had whined profusely, but now he was no longer a little boy. Dean had remarked that Sam was too young to understand. Sam bristled at the memory.

The bedroom door creaked open and Sam closed his eyes and pretended to sleep. He felt the bed sink in under Dean's weight as he sat down and began taking off his boots. Every time his dad and brother went on hunts, Sam could not rest until they returned. He lived in constant fear of losing his family, but today he would do anything to get away from them.

Dean crawled under the covers with a sigh and their arms bumped in the cramped bed. Sam pulled away sharply, forgetting he was pretending to sleep. "I know you're awake," Dean stated. Sam chose to ignore him. "Sam, I know you're mad and all but don't be mad at me. I don't want to see you get hurt." Sam felt his heart soften slightly. He turned his head to look at Dean. He smiled when he saw a little dirt on Dean's face but the freckles were still not obstructed. Almost by reflex, Sam reached out and brushed the dirt off Dean's face. "I remember when you were a little kid, you had a fascination with my freckles. I guess nothing's changed, eh?" Sam pulled his hand away viciously.

"Shut up." Dean grinned, relieved that Sam had spoken.

"Aw, come on. You were cute."

"I was getting dirt off of your face."

"Yeah, right."

"I was!" Sam protested.

"Oh, I don't mind. If you need to pet my face in order to fall asleep, feel free."

"Don't flatter yourself. Freckles are babyish." Dean looked at Sam, faking hurt.

"But I like it when you poke my freckles."

"Okay. I think you're tired. Go to sleep." Sam turned his back on Dean. Even though Dean had been teasing, he felt like he'd just lost a part of his brother.

-o-

Sam stumbled into the kitchen of the motel and fumbled for the light. The heavy weight of Dean dragged him down and Dean's head flopped limply against Sam's face. With a grunt of frustration, Sam finally found the switch and re-adjusted his grip on Dean. Using the last bit of his strength, he hauled Dean into the bedroom and laid him carefully on the bed. He swallowed away the panic threatening to boil out of him. The only betrayal that he was on the verge of losing control were his shaking fingers. It took a few deep breathes before he was able to unbutton Dean's shirt. The amount of blood soaking Dean's shirt sickened Sam and he breathed deeper, forcing the contains of his stomach to remain where they belonged.

Sam had seen plenty of blood in his twenty three years of life, but it was never Dean's blood or so much of it. Of course, Dean wasn't invincible and had been hurt many times, but it seemed liked Dean had no more blood in him. In fact, his skin had taken on a deathly pallor and was cold to the touch. Panic flared again, but Sam willed himself to clear his head. He pulled off Dean's shirt and tossed it, dripping and ripped, onto the floor.

In a frenzy, he gathered up a bowl of warm water and cloths. Gingerly, he wiped the blood off of Dean's chest. It took many trips to the bathroom to rinse of the cloths and retrieve fresh water before the wounds were even visible. The once white cloths were stained a dark red. The most prominent wound ran from Dean's left shoulder to the bottom of his right rib. It was not deep but wide. Already, a crust had formed and the blood had ceased gushing and instead oozed. This was good, Sam hoped. Sam stayed up all night cleaning Dean and making sure he was warm. Dean didn't even stir. About every second, Sam checked his pulse. It was weak but constant.

At the crack of dawn, Dean moved his head, and Sam jumped at the small movement. Dean moaned slightly and Sam fell to his knees and peered closely at Dean's face. "Dean?" Dean's head lifted and dropped. Sam grabbed Dean's hand with his eyes never leaving Dean's face. What seemed like years later, Dean's eyes fluttered open. The unbearable relief left Sam slumped and shaking and his voice cracked when he practically sobbed, "Dean."

"Sam?" Dean's voice sounded parched. "Man, am I thirsty."

"I'll get you water." Sam leapt up and looked down at Dean strictly. "Don't die." And he was completely serious. He rushed out and got cold water from the tap and rushed back to give it to Dean. But Dean was fast asleep. A healthy sleep where his chest rose and fell regularly and he made noises and tossed his head. For a few moments, Sam, still clutching the water, watched Dean. The exhaustion from the hunt and being up all night struck him and he set down the water for later and crawled next to Dean. The last thing he saw before sleep captured him where the freckles standing out on Dean's pale face.

-o-

For the next three weeks, Sam and Dean stayed at the motel and allowed Dean's wounds to heal. Sam took the role of doctor, and Dean surprisingly didn't mind all the attention. Sam guessed Dean liked ordering him around and making him do unnecessary tasks which he knew Sam would oblige to. Sam and Dean lay chatting in the bed. More like arguing playfully. Dean insisted he had had enough bed rest but Sam claimed he knew more and Dean needed to stay in bed for one more day.

"Humph. Fine then. Buuuuut I'll only stay in bed if you stay here with me. And play with my freckles." At first, Sam thought Dean was kidding, but he looked into Dean's huge eyes and the childish expression got him. Without a second thought, he reached out and traced the freckles on Dean's cheek and then moved to the other. He slid his finger down Dean's nose and tapped, giggling, at his forehead. Dean's eyes tracked Sam's as he mapped out Dean's whole face.

"Dude, you have a freckles even on your lips." Sam brushed the freckle creeping up from Dean's chin and sitting on his lower lip. Dean pushed out his bottom lip in a pout and Sam laughed. He found himself staring at the perfectly shaped lips and began tracing their outline with his thumb.

"So I have freckles all around my lips, huh?" Dean's soft voice startled Sam and he looked up in embarrassment. When he met Dean's eyes, he saw no mockery. A strange looked filled Dean's beautiful eyes. Sam felt his heart jolt and they mutely stared at each other for a few more seconds. Sam cleared his throat and mumbled something about being thirsty and scurried out of the room. Dean let his head hit his pillow with a thud and he closed his eyes and sighed. Getting hurt wasn't so bad when he had a brother like Sammy.


End file.
